


Nightlock

by notcrazyipromise



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Angst, M/M, Melodrama, Oneshot, and kill themselves, and they get really dramatic about it and over react, dan and phil fight, don't do this by the way, double suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-01
Updated: 2017-09-01
Packaged: 2018-12-22 16:18:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11971053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notcrazyipromise/pseuds/notcrazyipromise
Summary: Dan and Phil's relationship keeps deteriorating until eventually they get in a huge fight and Dan leaves to a hotel somewhere. They film their last videos because they're really sad and shit and melodramatic. Then they kill themselves because they can't deal with being in a horrible relationship or being without each other. Very sad, but quite an inane concept.One Shotquite short and sad





	Nightlock

**Author's Note:**

> Hi  
> tw: talks about/even kind of focuses on suicide. dan and phil do NOT deal with their problems the right way.  
> sad ending

A threatening calm spread over Dan and Phil’s house. The calm before the storm, so to speak, but the calm was the storm. Maybe screaming, fights, and crying would be better than this deadly silence that threatened to choke Dan. Phil, staring into the distance, refusing to acknowledge either Dan or the oppressive atmosphere, tapped his fingers nervously against the soft wood of their desk. 

Dan had been slumped over in his chair for hours working up the courage to fill the empty void of silence. He threw caution to the wind in a sudden, unprecedented fit of frustration and screamed at Phil. 

“Stop it! Just stop it! Please! Stop!”

Phil blinked, the tapping on the desk pausing for a few moments.

“”Stop what?” 

Phil removed all traces of emotion in his voice, controlling his lightly Northern accent to create a perfectly enunciated, articulate voice that didn’t belong to him at all. It was like he was just a robot within Phil’s skin, borrowing his voice, and speaking just what it was programmed to speak. Without a heart.

Dan felt himself losing control of his temper, but he concentrated on keeping himself sane enough to deal with Phil. 

“Stop acting like some disembodied robot and stop ignoring me.”

“I’m afraid you don’t control my actions,” Phil replied, his voice turning even colder until it pierced into Dan’s mind like a physical weapon.

Dan stood up and left. He couldn’t do it anymore. Couldn’t pretend to the camera that he and Phil’s relationship wasn’t falling apart. Couldn’t keep up his persona anymore. Dan signed into is social media and deleted his accounts. He went into Youtube and deactivated his channel temporarily. He needed to make one more video, if he found the courage to film ‘Goodbye Internet”. But right now he couldn’t. Dan took his laptop, half a small container of purple pills, and left through the front door, walking to the tube and leaving to a hotel in London. He felt nothing. Not yet.

Phil got up off of his chair and went directly to his room, turning his notifications off to ward off the online storm sure to be happening. He collapsed in his bed and lay there, in the hazy in-between of sleep and consciousness; death and life. 

The next day, Dan filmed on his MacBook’s webcam. Balancing the laptop on a pile of blankets from the hotel, and tilting the screen slightly so he didn’t look like a complete wreck. He still did; the purple bruise-like bags under his bloodshot eyes contrasting with the stark white of his drained, pale face, his tangled mess of hair greasy, sweat-or was it tears-drying on his forehead, leaving salty deposits behind. His lips chapped and abnormally pale, his mouth dry and throat scratchy. 

“I’ve sure you’ve already seen the title of this video. And no, it is not clickbait. I don’t use clickbait, never have. And, obviously never will. I won’t be making any more videos, in fact. I just wanted to give you all a heads up as you are my audience and I will forever owe you. Every single one of our- my subscribers. But now, I can’t make videos again, and I hope it won’t make much difference in your life. Whatever loss and sorrow you might feel at this; I don’t deserve it. Go and live your life the way you want to, don’t see me as a role model, ever. Please. But back to the point…”

Dan’s voice cracked, his eyes filling up with salty tears. He blinked, not caring if everyone saw. If they laughed at him. If they thought he was crazy. He didn’t care.

“...I’ve decided to stop this Youtube thing. It’s been way overdue, you can probably tell when it stopped being fun for me and more like a chore and I became miserable. You can also probably tell that I’ve become a much more miserable person in general. But I didn’t make this video to mope about how my life is just a heap of ruin...I wanted to tell you, you watching this right now, on your laptop at home, on your phone, that you can still change your life. No matter how hopeless it might seem right now, you can do it. You can persevere. You can. 

“But…”

Dan broke his gaze on the webcam, glancing at his hands, placed on his lap. The wet spots on his jumper that came from his tears spilling over his eyes glared at him. 

“I can’t. And that’s...well that’s the topper to ‘reasons why dan’s a fail’, isn’t it?”

Dan tried to laugh, but it broke off and turned into sobs wracking his tall frame, shaking it and making it shudder like a leaf in the wind. 

“Well, you’re the only person I can tell, Internet. So I just want to say, I’ll miss you, wherever I’m going. Maybe one day, you’ll be able to pull up my videos on the internet and tell your children...tell them: “don’t be like this guy” and tell them that even though Dan was a human wreck, he did love and that he’d always love you and him and..and-”

Dan stumbled over his words, gasping as he tried to talk through his choking sobs. Taking a deep breath and desperately trying to compose himself, he looked directly at the webcam and spoke out his last words.

“Goodbye Internet.”  
On the other side of London, Phil lay on his bed, staring contemplatively at his tripod. He hadn’t left his bed for a day, ignoring his body’s needs and simply refusing to move. Or being unable to move, Phil couldn’t tell. He didn’t care either. He glanced at his laptop and sighed. Might as well get it over with anyway. He couldn’t leave his fans without something. Anything, really. They deserved better than nothing, for always sticking up for him, being loyal, and being absolutely crazy. 

Phil reached over to his bedside drawer and found the crappy black and white camera that he kept there. What he kept it there for, he didn’t know. There was an occasion to use it, and he felt like this was the time. He set it on his bed and started recording. 

“Hi, I’m Phil. I knew it wouldn’t be fair to leave Youtube without telling you guys, so, here I am.”

Phil looked around his room, trying to find something to say, but nothing really registered in his mind.

“I just wanted to tell you I will always appreciate you as an audience. You were the craziest people I’ve ever met...and I just want to say thank you for the years we’ve spent together. Whether you’ve been here since 2009, or joined a few days ago...thank you. But I can’t keep up with you anymore. I...I’ve really...I don’t know…”

Phil stumbled over his words. Where was his script? His backup plan? The neat paper with bullet points that he was supposed to follow?

“I will always remember the years together, all that people that we’ve met, the tour we did...I should really stop saying we, shouldn’t I?”

Cut that out, Phil thought.

“I think that what I’ve left on the world is something that I will always be proud of. Our-my book...it’s not really fair to say my book, is it? My audience. You Phillions…”

Phil laughed, but he could feel tears in his eyes.

“What am I doing? I don’t know. I just want to let you know that I appreciate you, but I’ll have to leave this site, and probably every other site that you see me on currently. So, AmazingPhil isn’t a thing anymore, it’s not Phil Lester, the guy with the hair from youtube and Radio 1, it’s just Phil Lester. I don’t know what I’ll do with the rest of my life, I just know it won’t be this.”

Phil nodded. That should be it. 

“Bye.”

For the last time, Phil reached forward and covered the camera lense with his hands in one smooth motion and stopped recording. 

He slipped the SIM card out and slid it in his MacBook, uploading the file to youtube immediately, not even bothering to look at it. He knew he said all that he wanted to say, and he didn’t need to hear himself say it again. 

Once the short video was uploaded, he could see another video pop up in his recommendations. Coincidentally uploaded at the same exact time as his, Goodbye Internet stared him in the face. 

Phil buried his head in his hands, feeling his headache gradually worsen. He felt a hammer within his head hammering away at his skull, trying to break it open with each heartbeat. He slammed his MacBook shut and threw himself on the bed, wrapping a pillow around his head, screaming silently. He pounded his fists on his bed, feeling tears leak out of tightly closed eyes and seeping into his pillowcase. The aching in his head grew stronger and stronger, and it felt like his brain was exploding slowly. He imagined his skull cracking. 

Hyperventilating, he dragged himself out of his too-bright bed and stumbled into the bathroom in the middle of the hall. He pulled out a bag of purple pills and swallowed them dry, two at a time. 

So they’d have a friend to kill him with. 

Flashing images flew across his brain as he collapsed on the tiled floor, head lolling into the bathtub. Dan. Dan. 

Dan.

Dan held the pills in his hands, touching them carefully, almost reverently. In one sweeping motion, he took them all and swallowed them dry without thinking. They scratched and burned his throat, and he lay down on his hotel bed carefully. On a note, he scribbled through fading eyesight,

“Phil. Phil.

Phil...I’m sorry for leaving”

Phil saw one final image in his head. A white picket fence. A nice house. Three, screaming, happy kids playing in the yard with a tire swing. Dan, in a suit, kissing him on the cheek. Of what might have been.

**Author's Note:**

> btw if you feel like either dan or phil get some help pls


End file.
